


Shades of Grey

by SmutWithPlot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: #McHanzo is switchy af, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, BDSM, Consensual Kink, Courtesan AU, Cowboy Kink, I'm just a sucker for pain, M/M, Pink Hanzo, also lots of food porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutWithPlot/pseuds/SmutWithPlot
Summary: One perk of being Master of the Shimada Clan is having the money and power to indulge various... appetites. The contract was a week-long holiday in a tiny middle-of-nowhere farm in America with a cowboy who delightfully didn't mind switching around. So many professionals insisted on topping only. After months of planning and questions and rules and kink-sharing, Hanzo finally gets to meet the man of his dreams... Jesse McCree. // I have no idea where this is going, but if you have a cowboy fetish, this one's for you.





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> I'm mildly ashamed to admit I was asked to do some Daddy/baby girl kink RP today, and the scene was so good I wanted to share it. Naturally, I went to #McHanzo, because I love you guys. If I'm very lucky, I might rewrite this all to be an original piece to shame all the BDSM newbies who worship 50 Shades of Grey and all those nay-sayers who say switches aren't real. WE EXIST, DAMN YOU! I just don't like working so fucking hard all the time.
> 
> ALSO, this farmhouse (and the attache farm) is shamelessly copied off of my actual paternal grandmother's farm in Angola, IN. Yes, it's a real place. Anyone who's been out there knows the fucking windy road I'm talking about, and YES, you can see deer there on the side of the road like cocky fucks because it's not deer season, but when it is, GOD HELP YA. Won't see one til spring.

I barely saw the airport until we right on top of it. Even in the broad daylight. It was a strip of tarmac, and another two-lane highway with a yellow stripe in the center of it. The airplanes parked there were antiques, flyers from the second World War, and a couple more modern jets. It really was the middle of nowhere.

"This is it," my pilot announced. "Tri-State Steuben County Airport."

"There's barely a runway..." I muttered.

"You wanted out of the way? This is it. Nothing but cornfields for miles..."

_Out here, no one can hear you scream._

I tried not to let my excitement show. "And you remember the deal? Same place, one week?"

"4.55p take off, yessir." He even saluted me, and as the airport attendants ran to us to take care of me, I felt my blood pressure rise.

"Thank you," I said.

"Thank _you,_ " he answered. He'd already been paid for this leg of the journey. I would announce I was safely arrived and he would be given more. And there was the suggestion of a tip once I was home again. And the promise of future favor from the Shimada clan.

One of the attendants held out a hand to help me down from the plane, voice raised over the buzz of the plane. "Welcome, Mr. Shimada! How was your trip?"

"Very long!" I answered. I saw two more scooping my bags from the humble cargo hold onto a similarly small cart. They made quick work of it, and we all made our way to the hangar. We were barely inside when he already started to taxi around to leave.

"We're awful pleased to have ya," said the man who had fetched me again, shaking my hand with a big grin. "Always nice to have out-of-towners to our humble Angola."

"Of course," I said, but my eyes sweeped over the hangar/lobby I was standing in, little more than a barn with air conditioning, two rows of chairs that had been neatly lined up, and a receptionist behind a desk that smiled at me.

But my eyes were caught on the man waiting beside her. A hat I had wondered over for weeks, a face I had only seen in pictures, fantasies. And he seemed even bigger in real life than I'd imagined.

"Well, howdy," he greeted, his voice like spiced honey, rich and warm, sweet but gravelly. He held out a hand and I clapped it, smiling. "Nice to meet you, Hanzo."

"And you, Jesse," I replied. His hands were warm, calloused. Firm, but he did not need to squeeze and best me to be powerful. He knew who was in control. "At very last."

He chuckled. It was a beautiful sound, and it put me at ease immediately. Then his eyes moved to the cart that the attendants were rolling past us.

"We'll get this in your truck for you, Mr. McCree," the attendant was saying. "Mr. Shimada, let's just get you signed out, alright?"

I finished the checking in procedure, and even messaged my brother that I was safely arrived. I turned at the roar of an engine to watch my pilot take off...

I couldn't believe I was actually here.

When we stepped out into the sunlight, it was blinding, but /beautiful/. Everything was green, wildflowers and daisies and the like scattered around the place growing wild and free. His boots jangled beside me, and I looked down to see /real spurs/, a tinge of rust to their edges.

I took a moment to really appreciate him. Spurs that clinged and sang were strapped onto leather boots, edges worn and loved, the leather gleaming and crunching against the gravel. Denim with worn creases where he bent them, a fat wallet sticking out of a back pocket, braided leather belt strapped in with a gleaming belt buckle of brass over--

I licked my lips as his hands moved in front of him, and I glanced up at his face. He was smiling at me, eyes warm and welcoming, like hot cocoa on a winter morning.

"Feel free to get an eyeful. It's what yer here for." He had stopped beside a white pick up that looked easily a decade or two out of date.

"Actually... Could I get a picture?"

"By all means, darlin'. Long as you don't share 'em." He slipped a hand under the red and white checkered overshirt he wore, pulling it aside so I could enjoy his hairy fist on his a, white undershirt tucked into his jeans. His belt buckle said BAMF, and I chuckled. A twist of curly bush teased out the top of his tee, his overshirt flapping like a flag in the gentle wind. His left arm leaned into the window of his truck, a leather wrist watch on his hand.

His smile flashed in his eyes. Genuine warmth and amusement. His skin was redder than I had realized, sunkissed and beautiful. I noticed his hair was more of a honeyed brown, while his beard was more like dark wood, rich and sturdy. There was no blush to his cheeks. Just a pleasant kindness and humor that touched me.

I stepped back, wanting to get the beautiful woods behind him and the white truck and just... capture the moment. He waited, letting me move around him, getting closer and... Well, snapping pictures of things that weren't his face.

"You need me to turn around?" he teased, and he shifted his boots, leaning into the truck to look over his shoulders at me, that glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Oh, that is very nice," I answered, taking more. I bit my lip, and shut it off. "You are too kind."

He laughed. "Not my first rodeo, darlin'." He pulled open the door to his truck with a whine. "You wanna ride shotgun, or hop in the back with your bags?"

I looked to my bags, tucked into a cargo net, and the open space, particularly the place where the back tire cover made a seat... I was almost tempted. "Maybe later." I moved to the passenger seat instead. He leaned over to help push it open for me, and I enjoyed the angle - face, hat, chest... He was _truly_  scrumptious to look at.

"You hungry?"

"Mm. A bit," I admitted. I climbed into the seat. It was wide, a giant leather couch with only stitching to determine where the seats ended, including a short one in the middle for a third party. It smelled of cigarettes and something a little more wild. I pulled on my seatbelt as he did the same.

"Well, we can get you some country cookin'. We can go out to eat, or I can cook ya somethin'?"

 _And he can cook_. "I think that would be nice. You cook, I mean."

That beautiful smile again. "Alright now. That's a plan." The truck was a manual. I watched him hit the clutch, and then the gear shift. As he leaned to turn about, I admired the hand-stitched leather handle to the gear shaft... I was tempted to touch it when his hand came back, switching gears. He caught me out of the corner of his eyes.

"Look at you, all handsy," he teased. He left his hand there for a moment before turning again onto the two-lane highway I had seen before. When he put his hand back there, his fingers flexed. "Go on. You can if you want to."

I blushed, but did, moving my fingers over his. They flexed, turning, and our fingers inter-locked. He felt... warm. Rough. Rugged. I squirmed in my seat a little closer.

His eyes are kind. "Likin' whatcha got so far?"

I nodded. "Yes. Very much."

He nodded. "Well alright." His fingers squeezed mine, a gentle tease. "So I'll let you know a little more how this is gonna work. The farm is a real farm, so it does require some upkeep. I'll have mornings where I have chores to attend to, but it'll be wee hours of the morning, so you won't have to worry about it. I mean, lessin' you wanna help throw hay and pick chicken eggs, but that's not part of our contract, so I won't ask it of you."

I nod. "That might be fun?"

He shrugged. "You're welcome to try and help if ya like. I won't make you, though."

I nodded. "And... you are certain the location is secure?"

He chuckled. "Look around you, sweetheart. Ain't nothin' but forest, country, and cornfields out here. There is a particularly windy part of a forest road that is a damned landmark. The roads are marked in longitudes and latitudes. 'Downtown' is two blocks of storefronts and a movie theatre that still plays _Star Wars_." I snorted. He smirked. "Like I told you before, we're measurable cornfields from the Ohio state line. Nearest neighbor down the way is still three cornfields away, off the street." And then, in a purr. "No one can even hear you scream. You're all alone out here. Just you and me."

That made me shiver. "I thought you were exaggerating." Good god, his voice...

"I don't need to exaggerate. It's true."

It was quiet, then. I basked in the warmth of his hand and the beauty of the countryside. We even drove through the windy bit of forest he had mentioned, and I swear I even saw a trio of deer. He laughed at my delighted smile, but it was just so _magickal_. When we broke from the trees, it was fields and fields of farmland. He pointed out which ones were wheat, or corn, spinach, and the roads that crossed it were dirt, marked in numbers and not names. We finally came upon a hill with a white farm house on top of it, a giant oak tucked close beside, and when he slowed at the top and turned, I clutched to my seat belt in anticipation. Another hill rose to my right, climbing higher, and it was covered in trees, carefully spaced. Beyond it, I could see the red barn, and a silver silo beside it. More corn beyond... To the left, the house. The oak behind, and more corn. Ahead of us, the drive way went down again into a garage, and I could see a hog of a motorcycle waiting there.

"Here we are," he announced, letting the truck quiet.

I felt a touch of nervousness and I licked my lips. I swallowed. "Do I call you 'sir'?"

His lips stretched, eyes sparkling. "If you'd like." He made it a low purr of a song, his eyes not leaving mine as he opened the door. He turned at the last second to get out, hat still on his head and I took a breath.

This was going to be a long week.

I dropped onto gravel and looked over the truck bed to where he was unfastening the net put in place. "Any of this particularly fragile?" I shook my head.

And then I watched him climb up a tire and swing a leg into the truck in a surprising bit of grace. He smirked at my surprised expression, and started taking the bags from the bed, and putting them on the ground beside the truck. "You wanna help, or do you wanna be spoiled there, princess?" he asked me.

I know I blushed. "I can help..." I hadn't expected him to use that one so soon. He swung another bag, and I was there for the last one. I watched him hop from the truck with a grunt and I couldn't help but be impressed, stupid a thing as it was. He grabbed the other two bags and headed to the house.

It was a simple looking farmhouse, lined in grass, a portion of it jutting out to meet the driveway, but a corner carved away for the entrance. There were wide white stairs that he stomped up, a flower garden beside, bright and colourful. There was a bird feeder with seed in it hung there, and a walkway that continued around the house. I stepped up the wooden stair behind him as he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. A screen door opened with a whine, and a red door with a half-circle window at the top that he swung in. He looked over his shoulder at me.

"I'll give you the tour real quick, just set your bags in here."

"Hai." I stepped in with him, and was met by a dining room of sorts, polished pine wood table and chairs for... 8? A kitchen to the right, the red following with roosters and chickens as a repeated theme. I smiled. "Haha. Niwatori."

"What's that?"

"Niwatori? Um..." I pointed at the chickens.

"Chickens?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Hai."

He nodded, smiling at them. God, he was beautiful. "Yeah, my grandma collected chickens a long while. Felt fitting."

The windows outside the tables had more flowers... And I swear I saw butterflies past the stained glass hangings.

"...Mind, my other grandma collected Italian chefs, and my momma collected lighthouses. Had to pick one."

I followed him into another room, this one lined with bookshelves, nicknacks and artwork (depicting pastoral scenes of course) and books with English titles I didn't know, and a cuckoo clock tucked next to a door that, ajar, seemed to be a bathroom.

"Kuku!" I said, grinning at it.

"Oh, yeah. She'll holler at ya. Might keep you up at night," he teased. Behind him, a laptop waited on a small desk, a router blinking beside it.

 _So this is where you talked to me all those nights,_ I thought. But he'd disappeared -- on the other side of the wall was a staircase, and I followed.

"We got a greenhouse here, iffen ya like to sit with the plants but it's rainin'. Sitting room in the back. Mind... I imagine you'll be a bit hungover from the time difference, so I won't be upset if you sleep tonight," he said. I was not sure how he expected me to sleep when I knew that he was wandering around loose... But I followed him as his beautiful voice upstairs as it moved upstairs. The stairs turned back in on themselves, a painting of a gardening pail watching over the space, and then back up to a broad landing.

We were standing on hardwood floor, and each corner seemed to have a door. "Play room," he said, pointing to a door to my left. I saw the edge of a bed and black painted walls with things hung on the wall I could not name. "Your room." He pointed to one next to it. I saw simple wood walls and a painting of a flower field and the edge of another bed, this one with a quilt on it. "Attic and storage." He pointed to a door ahead of us. "Office." A closed door opposite my room. "My room." Anther closed door opposite the play room. He looked back at me. "Open door is an open invitation. Closed door, you knock and don't come in until you're given permission. Kosher?" He held up a thumb.

I did not know 'kosher', but I held up a thumb. "Hai."

"Excellent. Let's go get yer stuff."

He slipped past me, a hand ghosting over my arm, and I shivered. _He lets me touch_. I followed him, admiring the way his shoulders and hips moved as he went down, the shape of his ass, and the smirk I saw on his face as he turned around told me he knew it.

_This was going to be fun._

He helped me take my things to my room, a simple and clean place. The quilt was beautiful, spring greens and pinks and purples and blues and diagonals and diamonds and a blend of simple tastes that were no less beautiful in their simplicity. There was also a watercolor of a doe in the forest that made me smile, thinking of the deer we'd seen on the drive in. There was also a wardrobe and a dresser, and when he left, speaking of making dinner, he shut the door behind him.

 _An open door is an open invitation,_ I thought to myself. He spoke for his own privacy as well as respecting mine.

I changed from my travelling clothes into a blue yukata, feeling wicked and decadent as I forgo my slippers as I come down the stairs. He heard me squeak, I am sure, with the old wood. I peeked around, and there was more to the house, what looked like a green house to my left, and maybe a sitting room opposite the kitchen. But I was drawn to the light, the dimming sunset painting the land in blue. He was the same as before, standing in the kitchen, tapping a spoon on a little pot, and there was the smell of a roast in the air.

"Howdy," he called to me. I waved back, hugging myself. "Chilly?"

I shrugged. "Is only a little bit. I am okay."

He watched me, his eyes exploring my -- perhaps for him, strange -- outfit. "Nice getup."

I smiled, shy. "It is a yukata. Casual wear. Very traditional." He nodded, listening. I leaned towards the stove. "What are you making?"

"Buttered corn," he said, gesturing to one, "and garlic butter mashed potatoes. Got some barbecue chicken bakin' in the oven." He glanced at the clock. "Won't be much longer now."

"Sounds tasty," I said.

"Not half as tasty as you," he answered.

I know I blushed, and his eyes didn't leave mine. It was _exhilarating_.

"You think I am tasty?" I asked.

"You _look_  tasty," he answered. "Ya sound tasty. If you weren't, ya wouldn't be here. Mm?"

I looked away, blushing. He chuckled, and I glanced at him again.

His eyes were glittering, but something in them was darker. "Yeah, you and me are gonna get on jes fine."

He asked me my favourite color, which I thought was odd, but when he opened the cabinet, he handed me two plates - one a rich dark blue and one a bold, royal purple.

"Set that on the table for me, will ya, darlin'?" I did as I was told, and when I came back there were glasses - one rimmed in blue, and one in purple - and after that, cutlery of the chosen colors as well.

"These are fun," I said, laughing.

"They got like a dozen colors," he said. He was pouring the corn into another bowl, this one a burnt orange, the same kind of hand spun pottery as the plates. I took it to the table, and when I came back, he had the potatoes in a bowl of avocado green. An alarm went off, and he silenced the little egg-shaped timer. He pulled a small glass casserole dish, and this time he gave me a red and white checkered towel to set on the table, and he followed me with the dish, setting it on the table.

"Water? Juice? Sweet iced tea?"

I giggled. "Tea!" This time, his teasing hand squeezed my neck, and I wanted to follow him. He stood over me as he poured our glasses -- I had us sitting side by side -- a hand on my shoulder, and I tilted my head back against him, looking up at him.

His smile would haunt me. The pictures did not do him justice.

He set the pitcher on the table and sat down, facing me.

"...You're damned pretty, you know that?"

I bit my lip. His hand touched my jaw, and a thumb traced over where my teeth worried my skin... I let go, heart racing, and he leaned in to kiss me.

I _melted_. I kissed him back, and then a tongue teased at me, and I opened my lips with a soft sound. His tongue slipped inside, and my fingers clutched to his arm, and I was lost in him...

When he broke off, he sighed, his head to mine. I blinked up at him, and his eyes were heavy. He reached up for a kiss above my brow, and then he turned in his chair. "Eat. You'll need your strength."

 _And how,_ I thought. I scooped myself some corn, and he served me a little thigh, slathered in sauce, and some onions besides. I knew we had discussed a menu and dietary limitations previously, but it felt so much like I had just randomly come home and he had offered to cook me a meal. I knew better, and still I fell for it. His cooking was divine, simple yet nuanced -- even the corn had specks of pepper to them. The chicken was moist and slurpable, and he laughed at my zeal. Even the potatoes were creamy and feather light, and there were even rolls for a bit of crunch. I was hungry enough to eat a second piece of chicken, but by the time I was finishing my plate, I was almost ready to fall asleep into my potatoes.

"Hey, now," he said, gentle. "I warned ya." I looked to him, his eyes shining with understanding. "Come on, you. Let's get you to bed." It was an 18 hour flight... I left at 3p and arrived at 5p. It was certainly jarring, to lose a day like that. And my body was not believing what it saw. His arm was strong around me, the stairwell tight enough to be cozy, and I felt drunk. But I knew I wasn't. I could not stop smiling at him, and he smiled, too. When we got to the top of the stairs, my door was still open, and he led me in.

I stood where I was, wondering... I looked back at him.

"You alright?" he asked.

I bowed my head. "Would it be selfish to ask you to undress me?"

And he smiled. "Nonsense." He came towards me, and _my_  was he tall. Head and shoulders higher than I was, he made me feel small. "Just let me know how this works."

I showed him the knots, and his fingers worked the obi until it was a ribbon again. It felt wonderful to have hands on me, and I put my hands on his chest as he opened my yukata, and I shivered in the cold.

"Your hands..." I said. "They are so warm."

"Yeah?" And those hands moved over my skin, cradling my head, and I hummed. He leaned down for another kiss, and I answered him.

He chuckled as I nodded in front of him, and I complained.

"Sleep. You've had a long day." He kept one hand on my hip as he pulled back the quilting for me. "Rest now."

I sat down on the bed, and he gave me another kiss on the brow. I felt childish, but in a good way, with a loving parent watching over me. Only he was not a parent, but something else. I cocooned myself in the blankets and he collected my yukata from the floor. He hung it up in the wardrobe for me, and then shut it. His boots were heavy on the floor, jangling with spurs. He flicked out the light, and paused at the doorway.

"You want me to leave this open or closed?"

I debated a long moment, blinking... "Open."

I looked up to see his smile take a shade towards predatory, and he left it ajar. "Bathroom is downstairs. Don't put it off," he warned.

"Arigatou," I answered, curling up in the blankets. I listened to his boots cross the hard wood floor and slip down the stairs. I could hear the chatter of china as well as he cleaned up dinner, but I drifted off to sleep.


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time differences suck. Hanzo checks in with Genji, breakfast with his... 'companion'. In which Jesse teases, Hanzo misbehaves, and the first taste of Master Merce-- erm, McCree slips out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about the food porn. I also remind you that this is not as haphazard as it appears -- this 'contract' was worked out in detail ahead of time, in private, between Jesse and Hanzo, so anything you see is done with full agreement, consent, and maybe even asked for. So I don't want to hear SHIT about domestic violence, okay? You wouldn't know hardcore kink if it slapped you in the face and told you to call it Mommy. NOT EVERYONE WAS ABUSED AS A CHILD. Some of us have to make up for that by being abused as adults. I'm a sick fuck, and if you don't like my sense of humour, go read something else.

I awoke to the dark.

It was unsettling at first, being in a strange place. Strange smells, strange sights, strange sounds. There was a cacophony of noise outside, not unlike the cicadas of Japanese spring, but different. The chirping of crickets, and an owl somewhere. I sat up, rubbing my eyes... I felt like I'd slept for ages. I looked about for a clock, but I did not find one.

I hesitated to drop my feet on the cold wood floor. And then I remembered the slippers I had brought with me, and braved it long enough to dig them out of the wardrobe. I also had a fleece robe that I could wrap around me as well, and I did, teeth chattering. Shuffling, I moved to my door.

She opened with a creak. I looked out at the hall, and I saw closed doors around me.

I eyed his door... and then the play room.

 _What surprises does he have in store for me?_  I wondered.

Choosing to obey for now, I shuffled across the hall and stepped down the stairs, each step outrageously loud to my ears. It was torturous going down, and when I reached the bottom, I blinked at the clock.

3...41? Not quite 4 in the morning.

I huffed. I had slept for quite some time. 10 hours. I must have been more exhausted than I thought.

I went to the restroom and then began the noisy climb back upstairs. I glanced to his door, but it was still closed. As if it would be open in such short time. I shuffled back to my room and grabbed my tablet. Blessedly, my 4G reached this far, and I was pleasantly surprised. I checked my clock, and it was still early evening back home. I made sure to close my door most of the way to hide the sound, but still be open. I tagged my brother, and he answered right away with a video call. I accepted.

"Moshi-mosh!" I greeted, grinning.

"Oniisan!" he laughed. "[How was your trip?]"

"[It was very long,]" I said, eyes widening. "[I am halfway across America now.]"

"Hai! [You wanted the middle of nowhere, that is it. You are in the heart of flyover state America.]"

"[He says we are four cornfields from Ohio.]"

"[Is that near Chicago?]"

"[Other way,]" I said, waving a hand. "[Next state, other way. But more North.]"

"[Ah, your American geography is better than mine, brother.]"

"[Of course it is!]" I laughed. "[I wanted to know where I was going. Brother! the airport was one strip! There were 6 planes. And I am pretty sure all but 2 were for decoration.]"

He sputtered in laughter. "[That is too funny. And your companion?]"

"[Arrived on a white steed,]" I answered.

"[An actual horse?]" he asked, awed.

I snickered. "[Almost. Old beat up white truck. Oh, and the interior was hand stitched leather...]"

"[Very sexy,]" he said, rolling his eyes.

"He has a bike, too."

"[Bicycle?]"

I complained and he giggled. "[You are mean. Motorcycle! I think it is on the list for me to ride it.]"

"[That does sound fun, Oniisan,]" he said. "[I am happy for you. I hope you have fun.]"

"[I will,]" I assured him with my own lecherous grin.

He complained. "Oniisan... [What time is it there?]"

I shivered. "[Not quite 4a.]" He whistled. "[I came here, we drove to the house, he fed me dinner--]"

"[Oh, fancy American cuisine! What did he feed you?]"

I blushed. "[He cooked.]"

"[Ooh! Fancy five star.]"

"[It was potatoes and corn and chicken.]"

He snorted. "[Farmer food.]"

"[Shut up. I find it sweet.]"

"[Which is why you are in America and I am here! Eating sushi. Without you.]"

"Ana!" I complained. "Tease!"

"And mochi after," he added with a snicker.

"[Tease,]" I said again. And then I stopped when I heard a sound of bells. "[Hold on!]"

_Dung-dong-dang-dung... Dung-dong-dang-dong._

"[The hell is that?]"

"Shh!"

_Dung-dong-dang-dung... Dung-dong-dang-dong._

I grinned. _She's beautiful._

DONG. One o'clock.

DONG. Two o'clock.

DONG. Three o'clock.

DONG. Four o'clock.

I waited, smiling... But there was silence.

"Oniisan, you worry me," my brother said.

I giggled. "[Sorry! He has a hatodokei. I was listening.]"

"[Good god...]"

"[I love this place!]"

"[Brother, you worry me,]" he said again, with more strength. "[You are crazy.]"

"[You love me,]" I assured him.

"[I do not know so much anymore...]"

And then I heard something else -- the swinging of a door. And my breath caught.

"Oniisan?" I held a finger to my lips, watching my door... I heard quiet steps, but they came to my door, peekin' in.

He blinked. "Hey. Mornin'."

"Ohaio," I replied, grinning.

He seemed confused, but pleasantly so. His eyes alighted on my tablet. "I'm sorry. You havin' a conversation?"

"My brother," I answered.

"Oh. Okay." He gave me a salute. "I'm up to do chores. Should take about an hour or so. You're welcome to join me for breakfast if ya like."

"Hokai," I answered.

And he gave me a last little wave and put the door back where it was and stepped down the steps.

I gave out a heavy sigh before looking back to my brother.

"Oniisan... [Was that him?]"

My smile widened and I nodded. "Hai. [He is up to do chores.]"

"[At 4 in the morning?]"

"You have to get the eggs before you make breakfast," I said. He cursed at me and I laughed.

"Oniisan, you crazy old man," he said. "[Are you safe?]"

"[No one knows I am here but you,]" I said. "[I left emergency details in my office if need be, but I doubt it will be necessary.]"

"[Is it secure?]"

"[There's no one here for _kilometers,_ ]" I told him. "[Nearest neighbor is three cornfields away.]"

"[That's terrifying.]"

I snickered. "[I think it's wonderful.]" I heard the rattling of china downstairs. "[As it is. I am going to join him for breakfast. Send my love!]" I waved.

"[You crazy old man,]" he muttered. "[You better come back, or I'm just going to have kaiju destroy Hanamura and retire.]"

I laughed. "[Good evening, Genji.]"

"[Good morning, Hanzo,]" he answered, smiling. He saluted me with two fingers and I signed off. I turned my tablet off to save battery and shuffled down the stairs.

When I made it down, he was standing in the kitchen, dicing what looked like potatoes. He smiled over at me. I joined him.

"What are you making now?"

"Breakfast," he answered.

I pursed my lips. "Hai. What kind?"

"The kind you eat," he purred.

So he was going to be like that, eh? I looked around the kitchen and saw the potatoes he had rinsed and was dicing and a bowl to collect them. There was also a plastic container that I peeked into with a quarter of an onion. I looked at him sideways, and he looked at me sideways. Next to that was another with half a green and half a red bell pepper.

" _Mirepoix,_ " I announced.

And he snorted. "Yep. That's what we're havin' for breakfast."

I hummed to myself and peeked in the fridge, curious what he had. There was the pitcher of sweet iced tea from dinner, a gallon of milk with a red cap on it, a pitcher of water, and another of orange juice. "You have a lot to drink," I noted.

"Never good to be dehydrated."

There was also a carton of eggs - a beat up carton that had probably been reused plenty of times. A slab of bacon still sitting on the shelf. I saw a plastic box of strawberries, too. A shelf held sandwich meats and sliced cheeses, a bag of tortillas, a shredded cheese blend and a pack of hot dogs. The other side had more onions and potatoes and peppers. Condiments on the shelf, including pretty mason jars of jellies and jams--

"See if there's a jam in there you like, by the by," he said suddenly, and when I looked at him, his eyes were on the potatoes he was sliding into the bowl. But he glanced at me as he grabbed the onions, and I looked back to the fridge.

There was one of strawberries, one with blueberries, blackberries, apple and even peach. "You have so many..."

"I live on a farm," he said dryly. "Got lots of fruits and veggies to pick from."

I debated heaviest between strawberry and blackberry, and decided to grab both. I presented them to him, and he nodded to the table. I put them there, and as I did so, I noticed the fragrance of coffee that had not been there before. Tucked in the corner was another little storage space, and propped on a counter was a white coffee machine, bubbling away.

"There is coffee," I said.

He laughed. "Yeah, when it's gone, can ya get me a cup? I've some green tea for you as well if you want it."

My eyes widened and I stepped back to him. "Really?"

His eyes met mine, and he smiled. "Yeah, really." He tossed the onions in a different bowl. "You said you like your green tea in the mornings, right?"

I nodded. "But I didn't think."

His smile grew into a grin. "What, you thought I wasn't paying attention?" And then his eyes were on the peppers instead.

I couldn't help myself, I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. He laughed, and I could feel it through his chest.

"You are too kind," I said. I was half afraid I would cry.

"Come on, now, Hanzo. This is your holiday. I got some of your favourites. Mind... Some are hard to get out here, but I did my best."

"Like the strawberries?"

He smiled over his shoulder at me. "Exactly." And then he reached to the cabinet next to him and opened it, a rainbow of plates waiting for us. "What's your favorite color?"

I set the table, and he started cooking. He tossed the potatoes with diced onions and peppers and called it 'home fries'. He topped them with the shredded cheese, and then there was bacon and eggs. I remember him telling me he had learned how to make them how I like, the over easy that so many restaurants screwed up to where I just stopped ordering it in public, but he made the /perfect/, all wiggly and popped with yolk. There was toast with butter and jam, a cold glass of orange juice, strawberries with a dish of sugar, and of course green tea for me, and black coffee for him. We ate and talked like we were old friends and lovers, not people who'd never seen each other before yesterday. I knew that we had been in planning for this for some time, but I had forgotten how much I had told him, and anything he remembered made my heart swell. There were even kisses, some that were quick I-didn't-remember-that! kisses, and some that were this-is-amazing-thank-you kisses. My stomach and heart were full to bursting when daylight started creeping in.

Jesse finished a mug of coffee and sighed. "Well, darlin'. I am glad you were here for this. Makes the mornin' a lot less lonely."

"I'm glad _you_  made breakfast!" I said, waving on the piece of toast I was still nibbling on, because it was there. "This was amazing."

He stood and pushed his chair in. "Oh, I'da made you breakfast anyway," he teased, smirking. "I'd've just done it in the daylight."

"I do not mind getting up early for this," I told him.

His smile was... a little sad. He touched my chin and he took another kiss, nuzzling at me. "You're really sweet." And another to my brow. "Nibble all you like. I'll do dishes later."

"Hai!"

I watched him grab a thin jacket - dark brown leather with thick wool sleeve of black and red - and shrug it on. He gave me a last wink before he put on his hat and stepped out.

Determined to show my gratitude, I finished my toast and started cleaning up. It took me a little exploring to find his plastic bins, but I found one for the leftover potatoes. I chewed on the last piece of bacon myself. _Never waste bacon_. I put the potatoes and the strawberries and the jams away, and brought everything to the sink, even his coffee pot. In fact, after I washed it, I dried it with a hand towel and refilled it with water so he could have more when he came back. I did not trust myself to make his coffee how he liked it. I emptied out the kettle and set it aside, put my tea back where it went (he had such a sad tea collection... Just my tea, earl grey, peppermint and an unopened tin of Jasmine that made me beam - he'd remembered that, too. I had set the dishes to dry and was wiping down the table when he came back in. I startled a moment, looking back at him, and he stared at me... Or more exactly, the empty table.

"Why, you little--!"

He came at me, and I giggled, and his hands took my wrists, pinning me against a wall.

"What did I tell you?" he growled, face a grim line.

"I was showing my gratitude--"

"I didn't ask what you was doin', I asked you what I said."

He was pressed against me, my wrists crossed to one side. He was _powerful_. It took my breath away.

"That... You would do dishes." I tried to move my hands, but he put them right back. My heart raced.

"Damn right. Don't you squirm on me. I said I would do them. Who's on holiday, you or me?"

His voice was no-nonsense, like a shot of whiskey in your iced tea. "I am."

"And what part of bein' on holiday means you do dishes?"

"I was just being--"

And then there was a hand at my throat, and I gasped. "I _said_..." And his voice was a hiss in my ear as I stared up at the chickens he had collected all over the walls. "What part of you bein' on holiday means you do dishes?"

I swallowed against his hand, and I stilled, my wrists still to one side... "N-no part."

"No part...?" His head tilted, waiting for a certain thing.

I bit my lip and breathed, thin and noisy breaths in my nose. "No part, sir."

"No part, _sir,_ " he agreed. And he released me takin' a step back. His eyes were on fire, yet cool and in control. "Now you get your ass upstairs."

I moved to do so, and about yelped when a hand struck my backside as went by.

"Get on up!" he roared after me.

I was breathless as I climbed the stairs, an anxious smile on my face.

"I want you in the play room, naked, and sittin' on those misbehavin' hands of yours when I get up there," he called after me.

"Yes, sir!" I called back, and I opened the door to the playroom and made quick work of my clothes. I climbed onto the bed and sat on my hands as he had demanded, feeling my body shiver from the cold...

...And from anticipation.


	3. Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is punished for his misbehavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. I'm a feral top. Sorry, not sorry. And my Shimada boys have this weird non-con fetish that is... Bizarre. Hanzo is more of a diva that he likes being pretty and taking naughty pictures, but you better keep those photos private. Genji wants to get /caught/. Jesse likes it when they protest, especially when he knows they want it anyhow. He tends to undersell himself as a 'dumb cowpoke', but quite frankly, he's more of a mind fucker/sapiosexual-type kinky bastard. That's why Hanzo digs him so much -- the boy has no idea how wonderful he is. Worth every cent.

Hanzo Shimada had proved himself a handful... As expected.

From the first day he sent me an inquiry, with a demanding list of questions that, had I not been a professional, might have offended or scared me (and let's be honest, more of them were intriguing than offensive, and even the scary ones were fascinating), I knew he would be a handful. Without getting into specifics, he told me he was the leader of a powerful company, run by his family, and was not accustomed to anything less than respect and servitude. He found it boring. And in some ways, lonely. He also had needs that, while not exactly illegal or frowned upon in public, were something best kept discreet for the longevity of the family.

I didn't have to ask him what he meant. We're both men. That's enough of a trouble for some folk.

...He was articulate. Carefully spoken and precise with his questions and answers. He gave me a list of known fetishes, a list of ones he had not experimented with, and ones that had been ruined for him. He came to me to ask if I could deliver on my promise -- a week of debauchery, of soul-searching, body-crushing, personalized torment to expand the mind and test the limits. He asked me what experience I had. I told him I used to work in special ops, legitimate whoring in the James Bond sense on down to the $5 blowjob in the back of a biker bar. Told him I'd lived in a cage for three weeks as someone's pet, and then turned around and done the same to someone else. Sent him published short stories based on real encounters, went through detail on past clientele...

It took two months of sparse replies where I wrote whole essays on why I wasn't some hack or Mr. Grey wanna-be (and yeah, that was a good four emails alone), and part of me was ready to give up on this whole idea, except that he kept answering.

Until he asked me if I could cook.

...I imagine that's when he decided that this was acceptable because the questions from then on were less about safewords and inventive scenarios and more about creature comforts and home cooking. I had asked for a list of things he liked - favorite candies, favorite fruit, what he liked for breakfast - and he'd asked me for my own list, and even asked what was a local delicacy that most folks never tried. When I told him about corn-fed deer and hand-plucked eggs, I realized that the cowboy fetish went deeper than leather and denim. He wanted the quiet country, too. Rolling in the hay, literally and otherwise. I told him about taking a four-wheeler into the woods, quiet evenings fishing, card games and beer and snow so deep the lake freezes over. I told him about homemade quilts and windchimes and homemade jams and sweet homemade mead that could make a full grown man giggly with two fingers. When he pointed out the sweet little nicknames I had always done out of habit to keep from saying the wrong name, and noted a couple favorites, I changed his contact name from Hanzo to 'Honey Bee'. By that point, I was spending more time talking to him than anyone else.

The domestic side was not something I had gone out searching for, but I had to admit, the list of things he wanted to do outside of the bedroom was almost twice as long as the things he wanted to do with safewords, and that wasn't a short list. When he quoted me a figure a good five times more than I had been planning on asking for, I didn't have the balls to turn him down. In fact, I did what I usually did when people quoted me and asked for a little more. And... He gave it to me.

I'd learned that people like that got a mite offended if you didn't make them work for it at least a little bit.

Several months more of psychology, in-depth fetish discussions, codewords and triggers (good and bad) and preferences that either of us had. I used the advance to buy a shit ton of shiny new toys I'd been wanting for a while anyway so that when he did come, my toolbox would be as extensive as my imagination. I got his favorite tea shipped in and ordered a custom quilt for him that he could take home when he was done, made sure the house was in tip-top shape for my guest, got him in touch with the local private hangar for his flight in...

I had done everything I could do to make this a luxury vacation that would be worthy of the disgusting amount of cash he was dropping on this venture, and the God damn tricky little bastard went and did my dishes.

I mean... I wouldn't wish farm chores on anyone that didn't ask for it. Chickens are funny little critters, but some bite. Pigs stink. Horses can kick a man's head clean off if you aren't careful. There's a lot of heavy hauling and tedious upkeep that is back-breaking to someone not used to it, and I by no means expected any of my clientele wanting to have any part of the actual goings on of a farm, and yet this cat was ready to follow me to the barn and hatchery and haul grain and feed and whatever else I would need, just to live a new life for a week.

It hurt me. It hurt me real bad. I started to feel bad for taking his money, except that I really really really needed it. Had already started spending it. But I felt like I was cheating him, and had to amp up my game to make it worthwhile. Fuck the grocery store, everything was bought by hand from a neighbor. Had a couple birds and a hog slaughtered and butchered before he arrived, some fresh beef too. Stocked up a dozen and a half eggs of the very best my hens laid every morning so that he would have the best I could offer. The finest deli meat and cheeses. Drove all the way to Indianapolis to get him some sake and champagne, a blue-ribbon winning home wine from a microbrewer on the other side of the county and some beers. And the meanest, biggest jug of moonshine I could get. I got us playing cards so he could play boring card games and watch kitschy westerns with me and spent about three months curating a playlist of romantic crooners and country folk to really bring home the aesthetic. I had planned some four-by-four riding, fishing, s'more's, a bit of hunting if that's what he wanted, a tent to go properly camping if he so desired, made sure the barn was presentable if he wanted to go _there_ , a new swimming suit and a spare for him if he needed it...

Just about anything I could think of. It still didn't put a dent in the bank balance he'd given me, and I was wondering how many farms I could buy with the kind of money this cat spent on a god damn holiday.

...And he went and did my god damn _dishes_. To say I was pissed like hell is a vast understatement. I could not _believe_  the audacity of this ridiculous man. All sweet smiles and hungry kisses and wandering hands. I had worried that I would be too much for him, but he seemed to blossom under the attention. The fact that he had kept his door open made it awful hard to sleep, except that he was recovering from that plane, or so help me...

...Well, he was gonna get it now.

I decided to make him sweat a bit since he had already gone and done my god damn dishes already. I tried to busy myself with making coffee, and the little shit had already tossed the filter and put in a new one and filled the reservoir with water. And topped off the filtered pitcher cooling in the fridge. Fucking bastard. I came up with a number in my head and added another strike or three for each new thing I found that he'd done that I couldn't do now to make him sweat. He had been awful productive with an hour in my kitchen.

God damn it. He did my _dishes_. When he told me he was a touch domestic on a rare occasion, I had thought he meant... Oh, I don't know. I can't even think of what he could have meant. I remember him mentioning it, but I hadn't thought much of it. Now, I had a better idea. And this was such an odd thing to _punish_  someone for. Except that... Well, I had told him I'd do it, and he'd done it anyhow.

...God, the way he squeaked and grinned as I jumped him, though. It made it reaaaaal hard to stay down here and make him sweat. More like he was making _me_  sweat. I wasted time checking my email, but if they weren't messages from _him_  I just didn't care. I finally closed it up and checked the clock, and began my way up the stairs, making sure I took my time as I did so.

...The door to my playroom was open. I could see the black and silver and gleaming tools even from here. I didn't hide my heavy steps as I climbed, sauntered my way over there. I leaned into the doorway, a lazy hand creaking as I pushed it open.

There he was. Naked as the day he was born. A cheeky smile on his lips that he was failing to squash. The man was _built_. Pecs that made him look almost bulbous, that blue and gold tattoo over his shoulder and down an arm, strong hands tucked under his ass as I'd demanded. _Seiza_ , he'd called it. I schooled my expression into something cross, even as my eyes wandered over him, each ripple of muscle, the swell of his form, the erection hiding between powerful thighs. He'd even pulled his hair down, the crinkles in his hair where the tie had been, the silver at his temples a proud display of age and wisdom, although those eyes...

Eyes like storm clouds, bright and enticing. They were full of childlike mischief and excitement. They, too, looked me up and down, shameless, as I came past him, boots dancing on the hardwood floor... I could feel his gaze slide from my head to my ass and down my legs. I reached on the wall for a switch, pulling it down, making a show of bending the wood and listening to it snap back.

"Present your hands. Palms up."

I listened to the whisper of flesh as he complied, and turned back to him, those long, hard fingers loose and waiting, flat and open, as if waiting for a gift.

A gift of pain.

I moved forward, dropping the switch, into his fingers. The almost twitch of his eyes that wasn't quite a flinch. I rolled the thin rod over his skin as I got myself in a comfortable standing position, my back to him, stance broad, my focus only on those hands.

A testing tap, and then a WHACK!

His body tightened, arms and shoulders flexing, his excited smile twisting into a grimace of pain, but his eyes stayed on the rod. A second, and I watched his body tremble. I made it to five before his fingers twitched, instinctively moving to catch it, to _stop_  the pain, but just as quickly, he released it, and I watched his chest swell with the force of breath.

"What the hell do you think yer doin'?" I growled.

His eyes glanced at me, and then back to his hands, and I watched him gulp. He shook his head, his hair swishing like silk over his shoulders.

"Moushiwake-gozaimasen."

He had warned me that there would be a litany of apologies, and I knew I wouldn't be able to keep up with it (though I promise you I drilled it, they just don't stick), but this one started with "moushy" and ended with "masen", and I knew he was apologizing. The moushy one was a big one, compared to a sumi, which was more for common use (I think? Don't quote me on this), so I made a show of sighing.

"You are forgiven," I answered, though there is a disapproving touch to my eye, and I watched his lips quirk a little in approval.

Scripted. Agreed upon. A test that I had passed.

He made it to the 27 I had arbitrarily decided on, and I watched his face frown at the odd number, but when the last strike was done, I slipped it away along the length of my strikes. Bright red stripes marked his hands, but I had been careful not to ruin him so early in the week. This switch was thin and biting, but I had practiced my power so that I wouldn't do any damage.

"Alright, you. You can have 'em back." I moved to put the switch away, and he bowed behind me.

"Osoreirimasu."

...That one was a thank you. "Yer welcome," I answered, my voice turning kind. I returned to him, a hand moving to his jaw, tilting him up from his bow.

Bright and shining eyes looked up at me, that sweet voice so soft with submission... He was damn beautiful. This beast of a man bowing before me. My thumb stroked over the edge of his beard, fingers moving under his jaw, beneath that hair like black silk, stroking at his neck.

"...You are so damn beautiful," I whispered.

Those almond eyes widened in surprise, and his face turned a soft pink like his beloved sakura.

"Th-thank you," he whispered, his voice thick and quiet. His eyes searched mine as if looking for the lie, but I moved closer, slow and careful like he might spook if I went too quick. A gentle kiss, and the softest sound from him when he answered it, unsure, and god damn it, that doubt and wariness were so god damn precious, it made me want to devour him _whole_. I didn't -- I was careful to deepen it slowly, and I could feel his shoulders' tension melting under my fingers as I let my hand slide down his spine. My fingers spread over that wide expanse of flesh, cool and naked beneath me. I peeked, heavy-lidded eyes watching his, shut and waiting, relishing, enjoying...

_It is not often I find anyone who could even hope to lie about doing the kinds of things I would need from him. I hope that you will, for once, be able to actually satisfy my needs._

To know that so many had tried and failed hurt. Especially when I could see how eager he was to relinquish power.

My other hand came to his throat and closed around it. There was a strangled noise as his kiss hesitated, but I kept on like I did not care. I pressed high, so he could gag without crushing his windpipe, and I felt his body melt even more.

I pulled back with a growl, and I heard him gasp, lips parted, body slack in my grip. "You keep them hands of yours to the side. You do not touch. Understand?"

An attempt to nod, as he swallowed against my fingers. "H-hai, M-matsuta."

"It's _sir_  to you," I growled.

"H-hai. _Sir_." His eyes flashed open then, dark and wanting and so deep down that dark well...

I moved forward, pressing with that hand as if to direct his body by virtue of that throat alone. His legs parted for me, his body leaning back, his hands catching behind him on the bed, trembling almost unnoticeably as I moved him down to the bed, marveling at his dexterity and flexibility as he flattened himself, me rising above him, /pressing/ him to the bed. My other hand clawed down the length of his back, and his head rolled back, his hands gripping the blankets, obedient.

"Who do you belong to?" I growled.

"Y-you," he whispered, his voice airy. "I-I belong... To Jesi Makuri."

It tasted a touch odd, his accent thick and twisting it, but quite frankly, I fucking loved it. He swallowed against my hand again, and I teased my lips against his. He moved to take the kiss, but when I pulled back, teasing, he whimpered.

"That's right," I growled. I squeezed around his throat, and then moved my hand down his chest, squeezing at the hearty flesh. The other hand clawed down to his hips, and I gently tapped him there. "Lay out these legs for me, darlin'."

He did so, immediately, his eyes lidded and dark. I let my fingers trail over his abdomen, while the other moved to my belt. In most scenes, this was where I would verify that my pet remembered their safeword. But we had a set of them in tiers, non-con play setups and not-so-fasts and a slew of others, and I wasn't going to stop this scene to go through the vocabulary list. He knew what the rules were. We'd gone over them with a fine-toothed comb many, many times. I pulled off the leather and laid it beside him. His eyes watched it, hungry, and then back at me. I leaned back on my haunches, undoing the shirt I was wearing, the undershirt I normally wore gone, because I _knew_  we were going to have us a scene sooner rather than later.

I hadn't been sure who would be on top, but he'd made that decision for us.

I watched his eyes roam over me as I peeled off the layers, tossing them aside. The jeans I was careful to remove without making a damn fool of myself, turning my back on him, wondering if he'd take the chance to jump me while I was sandwiched between his legs...

Another time maybe. This time, he was obedient, though I watched the blankets stretch as his grip tightened.

When I turned back, I was as naked as he was. A hand on his belly, as I reached down for restraints. One for each wrist, stretched wide before me. I could hear his breathing grow heavy as he waited, feeling my mass heavy over him. He was hard beneath me, and so was I. I moved back to his face, my fingers stroking his cheek.

God, he was beautiful.

"Perdy li'l thing like you..." I purred, touching him, eyes memorizing this beautiful face. "So damn perdy, I oughta take a picture."

I watched his eyes flick darker. His face went slack... But his breathing got louder, thinner.

"Think maybe I will."

I heard him gulp, loud, his body squirming under me as I rose, and when I got to the door and looked back over my shoulder, he was biting his lip, hips rocking.

Oh, yeah. He wasn't going to stop me. He had warned me many many many times that if I so much as showed them kind of pictures to anyone, I was as good as dead... But he not once told me he didn't want me to take them. Hell, I had learned quick it was something he _wanted_. I moved quickly across the hardwood, tucking into my room and grabbing my own camera for this purpose. It was a high-res digital one that I could easily upload to share with him -- had sent him quite a few nice pictures ahead of time using this. Only as old as our contract. I returned, and he was staring at the ceiling, eyes tracing the riggings I had set up there, but when I stepped in, his eyes snapped back to me, that black, mindless hunger in them.

I snapped a picture just of that. His lip snarled at me, but he didn't say anything. I moved to sit beside him on the bed, lining him up for a closer picture. At the last second, he looked away, as if he didn't want to have this documented, but he didn't say the word.

"Aww, what's the matter, sugar?" I crooned. "Don't like your picture taken?"

"Not like _this_ ," he hissed, but there was no power to it. In fact, he was blushing.

"Hey, what's good for the goose is good for the gander..." I even moved to be up at the headboard with him, getting a long shot of this gorgeous body of his, and he glowered up at me.

I chuckled. "You look so mean..." I moved the camera down, a hand sliding over his chest. "Don't you like being admired?" I moved my hand to his jaw, but he turned his head away, defiant, a curl of a lip. _Brat_. I grabbed his jaw and moved it back to face me, and there was a sound of surprise.

"I said, don't you _like_  it?" I growled, moving my hand to grab his throat again. He squirmed, wordless protesting, but his face burned brighter. I snapped another picture, loving the way he _moved_ , and when he looked up at the camera, it was more vacant than defiant...

Jesus Christ, what a money shot, I thought.

"And who do you belong to?" I added in a purr.

"I belong to you... Jesi-sama," he purred right back. _Fuck_. Another beautiful picture, that shameless whore that he wanted me to find, right there. Right there and black and mindless and eager to get fucked... "So hurry up and fuck me already."

I moved the camera away, my grip tightening as I moved closer. "Say that again?" I growled.

A small groan as he bit his lips. "The Dragon hungers..." he tried, but it didn't have the strength behind it. It was not a demand, but an excuse. There was almost a _please_  in there.

"Oh really?" I said, setting the camera aside. "Hungry, are ya? Well, if you want it, you gotta ask for it. Or I'll sit here and dick around with this camera all god damn day."

He sneered at me, but those eyes... "I... Please. Onegaishimasu," he whispered. "Please fuck me, sama."

I squeezed tighter. "Gonna have to be a lot more specific than that," I countered, leaning over him.

His mouth gaped, face dark red, more from the blush than the lack of air. "I want... I want you to take me," he whispered. "With your rough hands and that growling voice..." He squirmed beneath me for emphasis. "Make me yours. Make me your _thing_. Your pet, your toy... Yours, sir." His eyes got darker, every word he dug deeper into the well.

"Yours to do with as you wish... Use me. Rough and cruel. Make it _hurt_."

 _Fuck_. How do you say no to that kind of thing?

"I think you need to be askin' more than demandin' right here, right now," I growled, eager to feed him anything he damn well desired because _hot fucking damn_  did it sound amazing. Such filth from such a beautiful voice...

" _Please_ , sir..." he begged, making it a lewd moan. "Please, Jesi, I want you to _fuck_  me like I am nothing. A mere slave to be used for your pleasure..." It came out a whisper, and _fuck yes_  that was what I wanted. "Please."

"Onegai," I whispered, correcting him.

I watched his face twist, and his body _squirmed_. "Onegaishimasu, matsuta."

 _Please, Master_.

I moved, rough, my grip tight on him and pulling him up just a couple inches before _taking_  a rough kiss. I felt his lips try to answer my hunger, but I did not indulge him. I pushed him back to the bed, those eyes black and _gone_ , and I stalked to a dresser on the side, an assortment of toys and plugs that would satisfy this need. I tossed them carelessly onto the bed, and his eyes admired the shape of them, bright colors of differing sizes, and lubricant as well. His breathing was noisy, and he tugged at his bindings, but his legs were spread _wide_ , and I moved between them easily.

But I did not mount him. I instead lay on my belly, leaning over one thigh, trapping him. My hands took him, roughly, stroking, squeezing. He moaned, a breathy thing, his head rolling back, and when I took him in my mouth, he gasped in surprise, those big dark eyes widening as they looked down at me. I didn't meet them, showing him how little I cared for _his_  enjoyment of this as I was rough and unkind, my hand twisting and my mouth just _tasting_  him. I loved the hafada just there at the base and took great delight in rubbing the heel of my palm against it, watching his leg move as his hips tried to answer me, sounds of protests and want wordless from his throat. He lashed at his bindings, but I didn't care, my tongue teasing at the tip of him, along the length of his cock, rough and hungry and not kind at all...

"Jesse, please..." he begged me. It did not dissuade me. I did not look up at him as I began to bob over him, indulging my _own_  love of cock sucking more than any pleasure he could want from me. He tried to buck into me, to answer my motions with his hips, but I had him _pinned_  and he couldn't do much of anything. I heard a dry sob, but I did not stop.

He knew the words to say, but he did not say them. So I would not be kind to him.

He had descended to mewling whimpers when I finally cracked open the lubricant. It was _cold_  and he let out a yelp, but my oral only slowed a fraction, not as relentless, but still past the point of distraction. I did not use my fingers. I grabbed a toy instead, a thin one to start with, and I was not torturously slow or careful as I pressed it to him, stroking along him, getting it good and wet before turning it turning it turning it... And pressing it inside.

A string of curses, his body trying so hard to thrash beneath me, but my weight held him down. I began to fuck him, inside and out, and he mewled... Oh god, the _sounds_  he made. He had been quite adamant about having sound protection, and oh _god_ was I glad I didn't have neighbors for a mile or so because he was _not_  quiet. I loved the way his panting, his moaning, his wrecked, ruined begging flooded the room. The door was open, too. I had a window just there...

I had the thought of leaving the window open one day and fucking him while he hung outside it for that stuckage item on his Curious list. Now I knew that I wanted him to face the road. That would mean his room, and yet I had the feeling he wouldn't mind it one bit.

I pulled out, my mouth doing the same, and he protested at the sudden loss of everything, but I returned my mouth to just suck at the head of him. He was squirming, cursing me now, curses mixed with praise, begging, my name, onegai... Onegaishimasu. The toy was replaced with a bigger one, turning and turning and turning, until it breached as well, and I heard him cry out, and then whispered praises as I fucked him with _that_  one too...

I swallowed him. Taking him as deep as I could, and sucking, sucking, even as I _fucked_  him with this toy, cruel and rough. But he didn't say his words. In fact, he begged for more, yes, please, more, harder, fuck yes... I did not go _harder_. I did not obey his whims. I took note of them, filed them away, but I had my own set structure on how I wanted to do this, and his begging and cursing was not going to affect me.

I had him descended to curse words alone, his body desperate to buck back when I pulled out again. A whimper, a high-pitched whine, a beg, please please please... My hands pulled and twisted around him, cruel, rough, and the bed frame squeaked as I moved closer, unpinning him, but pressing my thighs against his, pressing those legs higher. I did not look him in the eye -- oh, but how he was _ruined_ , his face streaked with tears, twisted and red as beets, as my hungry growling lip moved to his nipples, finding the piercings _there_. I was unkind as I licked and slurped and sucked, and he _screamed_. Chatter, mindless chatter in a language I only knew pieces of, but I knew the begging and the curses, and when I moved from one nipple to the other to continue on, my other hand moved to press my own impressive girth to him, and there was a hiss of yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, please! that I did not answer. In fact, as my hand went to his face, I pushed it to one side, even as I pressed myself inside him, his undignified squealing and my lusty groaning as I felt how _hot_  and tight he was, and I shifted his hips above mine to get the angle that I wanted. I began to rock, not slow or smooth or kind, and my mouth took to his throat, clamping down with a bite. He writhed against me, his hands _pulling_ at his bindings with desperate clanging, but I did not release him. He could not _touch_. He was not allowed. This was his punishment for being so ill-behaved...

And yet, he was _loving_  it. The 'oh please' was met with 'thank you thank you' using those big words that I had studied so that I could translate them even like _this_. I covered him in bites, in hard sucks and left welts, red rose petals over his beautiful skin. I bit at his dragon, and he screamed, writhing beneath me. Before long, it was 'no!' and 'too much, too much!', but he didn't use the words he needed to say, so I kept on. I took his throat, taking his loud protests and strangling them, smothering them with rough, hungry things that were too full of teeth and missed contact to be kisses, as if I would devour him, whether he returned the favor or not. But as I found a pace, rough and cruel and unrelenting, his hips answered mine, and when he screamed that he was going to come, that he was going to-- And with a strangled cry, he made a mess of _both_  of us, but I did not care. I did not slow. I kept on with my cruelty, and I strangled him, clawed at him, bit at him, scratched and pulled at him, mocking him as I tugged on his arms, testing his binds...

All the while, I said nothing. I did not answer his words. I did not give him directions or praise or ask him if he was enjoying himself, if it felt good... I was a beast, absent grunts and growls and keening whines as I indulged myself. _Taking_. Using him for my own primal need, not caring who or what he was, what he wanted, how he felt about it. He wanted to be a thing, and I treated him like one. I curled him in on himself for different angles, my fingers digging bruises into his skin. I fucked him long and _hard_  and cruel, and he begged me to stop, that it was too much, no more...

And yet, I didn't stop. I kept on. Until _I_  was ready to be done. I pressed him into the bed like he was nothing, my mouth worrying teeth and lips and tongue into the nape of his neck, not meeting his eyes. I twisted his body to the side and fucked him from different angles, loving the way his hot body protested and fought beneath me, loving the lashing of his chains, the way he moaned and gasped and begged for mercy...

...When I finally came, it was with a howling, buried deep inside him, one paw dug deep into his hip, bruising. The other clawing at his back, my head tossed back to the air, and when I trembled once... Twice... A third time, and spilled inside him, he squirmed against me, protesting, saying he _didn't want_  this beast inside him, he didn't want it, no no no...

...I came down with a sigh, listening to his whimpering, his protestations that I had _defiled_  him, but they were soft, reverent, each 'hairy brute' and 'monster' was said with the same love and affection as 'Master' and 'beautiful'. I took another mouthful of his inked shoulder, my hand wrapped around that lovely throat, holding his hips to me... _Marveling_  at how flexible he was, how easily he folded beneath me, how he could fight and thrash and yet find ways to press his hips to mind for maximum friction...

I purred, slipping from him, curling beside him. The rattling of chains as I slipped one arm above me, hugging it close as I pressed sloppy kisses to the side of his neck, holding him close to me. Like a beast with his bed warmer, a mere cock sleeve, a slave to my own needs and wants...

"Kuso yarō..." he whispered to me, his face turned from me in shame and stubbornness, even as his hips pressed into me, that arm sliding over me for what little touch I allowed him. I nuzzled him, fingers tracing over sweat-slicked skin, sure that the bedding would need a wash... That _he_  would need a wash. And I would need a wash. But for now, I relished having a body in my arms that I could fuck and squeeze and fondle, my hands exploring his skin while my mouth indulged in the taste of him, the feel of a neck to nibble on and enjoy...

He groaned. "You are a _beast_ ," he groaned, pressing his head against mine. I smiled against his skin, and he sighed. " _Fuck_  was that amazing."

My body shook with a chuckle, my fingers finding that hanging door knocker and teasing at it, his hips arching into me with a moan. "These dangly bits are too much fun."

"That is what they are _there_  for. I am both afraid and excited about you perhaps ripping them off of me..."

I laughed again, right in his ear, hugging him close. "I did mention I liked that kind of thing."

"Mmm... Yes, you did." This time, he drops the pretense, his face turning to look at me. His eyes... Oh, they are the wreckage after a monsoon, the damage done, the rainwaters still drowning the wash, but the rain has stopped. It's that first breath of relief, and when plump, teeth-worried lips seek mine, I answer them.

It's lazy, indulgent. Reverent. I move myself to my side, moving his arm over my shoulder (and I see his smile twitch a little wider) so that I can lean over him for a proper kiss. We drown in it together, his chains singing as he answers me, legs wrapping around mine. We nuzzle, and kiss, and damn it all, I've had so many bottoms that are so scared shitless and shaking and completely _gone_  that I don't get to enjoy this part, and I find my heart twisting as I thank whatever god gave me this man that he can let me ravish him so, and still be able to take more. I know that he can endure worse, I know that he would probably have endured _hours_  of torment, I probably could have set him up with a torture device and let him mewl and moan and shudder for days and he would let me do it...

It feels too much like love, slipping my fingers through that silk, feeling him hum against me, the quiet, contented little noises he makes. If he can taste it too, he doesn't stop me and nuzzles anyhow. When we part, I rest my head against him as I rise, muscles protesting all of this excitement all of a sudden, and he watches me with that quiet, dark want of someone who is freshly fucked but... Can't help but _want_. Just relishing this lover before them.

I give him a smile I hope doesn't seem too shy, and reach to unlash his wrists.

As soon as he is free, I am pinned to the bed, and I laugh, his hands holding _my_  wrists. I let him mount me, those wonderful hips gripping me, and that curtain of hair falls over me.

"No beast is hard to catch when he has a full belly," he tells me, that cocky purr to his voice.

"Or empty balls?" I tease. I rock my hips, and he rocks with me, his eyes the sharpness of a predator, but... Softening.

"...Or empty balls. Hai." His nose wrinkles. "God, you are so coarse."

I chuckle, my chest shaking us both. "Yeah, well. That part don't change." I made no move to fight him. To challenge his authority. I'd /gotten/ what I wanted. We both had.

"Hmm... Beauty and the Beast, eh?" he added, cocking a gorgeous, sculpted eyebrow. "Do I have to put on a yellow kimono and teach you how to slurp your soup like a Neanderthal?"

I can't _help_  the giggles. What usually comes off as dry wit behind a computer screen has an extra depth of warmth and absurdity when you can hear his lovely voice giving the wry delivery. "Not to be unkind, honey, but I don't think yellow would be a good color for ya."

He tries to glare at me, but my giggles are contagious, and he begins to laugh as well. "That is probably true..."

He has a hearty, warm laugh that just makes your heart melt and those eyes... Oh, god. They sparkle.

"...Oh, yes." He leans back on my groin, practically seiza, releasing my hands. "Oh, I think this will work quite nicely."

"What, now that you've had a proper chance to sample the goods?" I tease, hoping I sound more cock-sure than anxious. I had been mildly worried I wouldn't be good enough. Not that my technique hadn't been plenty trained, and I had confidence for days when I was in the scene, but... Outside of the moment, I was always worried about the aftermath.

"You were not _kidding_  about the preparation," he said, giving me a warning finger.

I snorted. "No, I was not." A devilish grin. "Gave ya plenty of fair warning."

"I thought that the second toy was a bit much, but _goodness_." He was grinning too. "I think maybe I should pay you more."

"Oh, don't you fuckin' _dare_ ," I cursed before I could stop myself. "Jesus, please don't. I don't like how much you paid me already. Too damn much. I just... _Damn it_ , Hanzo, I didn't even know if you were serious for a while there. Had no nerve to quote you a price."

"Nonsense," he said, cutting me off, a damn finger going to my lips. "You are worth all of it and more. Your hospitality has been... Exemplary. A gentleman when appropriate, and an absolute fiend when needed." I distracted him by kissing that finger... And I watched his eyes darken. "And... Absolutely beautiful." I moved my lips to take the finger, teeth teasing it, sucking lightly, teasing with my tongue... "...Debaucherous..."

I smirked, wondering how much of his English could survive this, his body instinctively moving closer... "Mmmm?" I purred.

That finger wiggled against my tongue, and before long there was two.

...Oh yeah. Hanzo Shimada was a handful alright. But I had spent months learning my dragon handling. And we had all week to put it into practice.


End file.
